


surrender becomes power.

by valeskuh



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gore, Jealousy, Non-Consensual, Torture, Violence, bruh idk hes just fucked up, he fingers u tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeskuh/pseuds/valeskuh
Summary: jeremiah wants everything that his brother used to have.everything, and you're first on his list.





	surrender becomes power.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo yeah!! you used to be jeromes gf, jeremiah is a jealous fuck.  
> guess he's gotta take on his legacy in more ways than one.

Pathetic.

Jeremiah's face contorts, leering down at the pathetic creature in front of him.

“You think I have _any_ desire to fuck you?”

Her hazy, unfocused eyes flit back and forth between his shoes.

“I-I… I thought…”

“You shouldn’t. You’ll learn better than to do that by the time I’m finished with you.”

A visible shudder runs through the girl's body as she began to sob.

So fucking pitiful.

 

Then, the moment the tip of the knife touches her skin, she’s wet. He can see it, her body betraying her.  
  
Jeremiah was sharp and elegant, so unlike his brother, who possessed no elegance. He makes a craft of what he does. Eagerly, free hand pressing down against her throat, he carves a deep line into the flesh of her stomach. She gasps, tenses, tears rushing to her eyes too fast.

The whore clearly didn’t want him to see her cry. Wanted to preserve her pride. He’d rip that out of her sooner rather than later. Viewing her insides was much more pleasurable than he could have imagined. Pretty; pinks purples and reds that he was long overdue in getting to enjoy.

Yet, the fact that he was the second person to have the privilege made him seethe.

The pain isn’t enough to make his victim pass out- she’s gotten good at tilting her head to keep the blood flowing, gotten good at focusing on how aroused she is, the pain energizing her. But not for him. Never for him. For his brother. His fucking dead brother.

 

“You need new scars, don’t you think?”

Of course he meant the ones Jerome had given her were outdated. He was hungry for the humiliation of having the last thing his brother had left her with taken away.

“N.. No, I-“

“I think you _do_.”

His heart is rushing now, and protests are lost on her. The girl’s limbs are energized, quivering. Blood is pooling below her back from the wound in her torso, and her frame shakes with every breath.

Laughable.

 

“Does that hurt?”

Wordlessly, she nods.

“You know, I wouldn’t be this way if not for your darling Jerome. You’ve got him to thank for all of this pain.”

Jeremiah traced the knife along her leg, across scars of his brother’s name, marks left from the dearly departed. The whore’s muscles tensed, and she let a whimper escape her lips. He knew how badly this would break her, he wished he had the capacity to care.

The blade once again dug through her skin with ease, but this time at her thigh, slicing tendons and ligaments with wet snaps. Jeremiah hacked once more, sent sprays of gore into the air, listening eagerly to the shrill screams of pain that reverberated around the tight space.

 

Sobs rack the girl’s frame as blood drips down her thighs. “I-I can’t, I can’t-“

“Oh, did _Jerome_ stop when you told him that?”

She lets out a low, anguished wail, burying her face against her restrained arm, forced above her head.

“My brother never wanted to kill you, you know. Not actually.”

The words felt like venom coming from his mouth. Jerome was weak. He’d let her off easy.

Jeremiah could break her. Recondition her.

 

He dug his fingers into the sticky, pulsating stomach wound and twisted, just to watch her face contort.

 

“Did you love him?”

She didn’t answer. She was forcing his hand.

The wail that came out of her when he pushed the knife further inside of her thigh was inhuman. He could see the muscle inside of her- could feel the blood coming out in spurts. The blade was almost halfway through.

“ _Did_ you?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I do! I did!”

The girl’s voice broke into sobs, her chest heaving with every anguished breath she took. Her eyes were blood red from crying, and tear streaks had swiped clean lines across her filthy face.

“Do you love me?”

Of course she didn’t. She wouldn’t, he knew that. Maybe she never would.

She knew better than to speak, though. She chewed on her lower lip, refused to look up at him.

 

“Tell me… that you love me.”

Jeremiah brings the knife to point below her chin, resting the edge of the blade along her jugular. He can feel her pulse pounding, can see how much more violently she begins to shake.

“I...I love you.”

The words are so quiet, barely a whisper. Maybe the whore needed more persuasion.

Pressure builds against the throbbing artery in her neck, and she begins to panic. He can see the moment she breaks, the moment she gives up trying to fight him, as her eyes snap to his. Begging, pleading, deliciously desperate.

“I-I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Please, p-please _don’t_...!” The girl’s voice becomes shrill as she babbles incoherently, only relaxing when Jeremiah lowers the knife from her throat, placing it on the table again.

By this point he knew she was probably lightheaded, not close to bleeding out but close to potential unconsciousness. He’d have to wrap this up sooner rather than later. Disappointing. But she’d learned, as he said she would.

 

Jeremiah never took his eyes off of hers as he reached a gloved hand in between her legs, as he felt her jump and tense up, and then relax.

 

“Would you... die for me?”

“Y-Yes.”

She’s practically dripping onto his hand already. The dazed, pleasured look on her face was almost better than her screams earlier. He’s circling his thumb lightly against her clit, and he can see the momentary shame flit across her face as she relaxed into his touch.

“Mmm, that’s too easy. Would you... live for me?”

“Yes.”

Jeremiah’s painted lips curl upwards as he pushes a finger inside of her, feels her heat around him.

“Say it, say it, say it… pretty pretty pretty…?”

“Pl..ease…”

Breathlessly, trembling, he watches her close her eyes and roll her hips against his palm. The blood oozing from her wounds long forgotten, she melted into him.

 

“That’s lovely. What a _good_ girl.”


End file.
